


That Rapscallion Bastard (The Mortification Remix)

by imaginarycircus



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: 69, Frottage, M/M, Motorcycles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-16
Updated: 2011-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-19 11:49:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginarycircus/pseuds/imaginarycircus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written for Remix Madness 2011, but I pulled it down to rework it a bit and have it beta read. Steve and Danny try to mess around on a motorcycle. Frottage, 69, and embarrassing stories from Steve's past may occur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Rapscallion Bastard (The Mortification Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [perspi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perspi/gifts).
  * Inspired by [That Rapscallion Bastard](https://archiveofourown.org/works/169170) by [perspi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perspi/pseuds/perspi). 



It's hard to balance on top of someone, balancing on top of a parked motorcycle, even with its kickstand down. Danny isn't sure if it's even called a kickstand on a motorcycle, but maybe it is. It sounds right anyway. And why is he contemplating kickstands when Steve has his tongue in Danny's ear? His mind just wanders sometimes. Does it's own thing. It's cool.

They are parked under the shade of some huge Hawaiian tree, in Steve’s driveway, that Danny can't identify. He hates not having the names of things at the ready. Vagueness makes him feel like he’s been caught outside without his pants on, which he is expecting to happen any minute now, because Commander Handsy is often able to remove Danny's pants, like a magician pulling a tablecloth out from under a fully laid table, without disturbing so much as a single soup spoon. He knows it's a combination of speed, a flick of the wrist, and an excellent use of distraction techniques--but the man really is magical. Danny thinks he must have born that way, because how could anyone become so awesome without having started out pretty close?

"What kind of tree is that?" Danny says. He wants to know the name of the tree he will be caught under, half naked, by a stranger, a passer by, likely in the next three to ten minutes.

"Mmmmmm? What? What tree? Why are you asking me about trees when I'm doing this," Steve gestures emphatically between their crotches and Danny laughs because Steve is picking up Danny's hand gestures with his enormous mitts.

"That tree," Danny points at it. "It's so huge that it's like there aren't even any other trees around. It makes the other trees less tree-like. It's giving them a Napoleon complex."

"It's a banyan tree," Steve says and then he cocks his head. "We don't have to do this now, if you're not in the mood. It's OK."

Danny looks down at the tent pitched in his chinos and looks back up at Steve with one eyebrow raised. Sometimes it's easiest to be eloquent without any words at all.

Steve smiles, grins even, and Danny melts, which is bad because it means he slips right off the bike and lands on his back on the ground with an 'ooof' noise that is straight out of a comic book. And that bastard, Steve? He laughs. Of course he does, because he's probably never fallen in his life, unless it was cool, and he was surfing or something.

"Sorry," Steve says and fights to keep a straight face. He steps off the bike swinging his long leg in a graceful arc that does nothing to improve Danny's temper.

"Quid pro quo," Danny spits out and sits up. “There has to have been one time when you weren’t perfect. When people laughed at you.”

Steve nods and sits down next to Danny and brushes the dirt from his back. He has serious I'm-thinking-face.

"Eighth grade. I had to go up to the blackboard to write an algebra equation on it and everyone started laughing. Then I realized I could feel a slight draft. I'd torn a hole, a big one, in the back of my pants and everyone could see my underwear ..."

"That's it? They all probably fainted from seeing your oh-so-perfect backside--"

Steve holds up his hand. "Wait. You didn't let me finish. Mary had played a prank on me the month before. She took a brown sharpie and drew brown stains on the backs of every pair of underpants I owned. My mother would not buy me new ones, so I had to wear them. And so everyone laughed. Everyone. Including my math teacher. They called me 'Shitpants' until I left to go live on the mainland."

"That's horrible," Danny says. He turns this memory of Steve's over in his hands. It is fragile and he does not want to break it, break Steve. "Please tell me you got Mary back."

"I put dye in her shampoo and it turned her hair green, but she liked it and it meant she got away with having green hair without having done it to herself." Steve shrugs.

"I kind of love you," Danny says.

Steve beams, but doesn't say it back. Danny gets that. It's hard to know how to say the words if they are a foreign language on your tongue, a language in which Steve probably doesn't even know how to ask for the bathroom. Danny taught Grace how to speak. He can teach Steve too.

He leans in and kisses Steve sweetly, but Steve apparently doesn't want sweet. He wants hot, and dirty, and I would have fucked you on my motorcycle in almost public, in broad daylight, except you fell off, and I laughed at you, and had to balance the scales by sharing a humiliating moment from the Steven-J.-McGarrett-is- really-a-human-being-just-like-every-other-sad-motherfucker-on-the-planet-files.

And Steve has his tongue twisted around Danny's and his mouth now tastes like Steve’s--a little sour and a lot sweet. Danny is on his back again and before he knows it Steve has worked his magic and Danny's pants are five feet away in a little mangled pile. They are both breathing raggedly and Steve is crawling all over Danny. They are just behind a hedge and Danny wants to say, “Hey, let’s take this inside” but Steve slides Danny's cock out through the fly of his boxers and Danny forgets what he was thinking and he does not want Steve to stop ever, but then Steve let's go and Danny’s cock is out in the cold.

Danny is about to ask, “What the hell?” but he sees a look on Steve's face that means Steve has an Idea. He unzips his jeans and slides them off and practically tears his undershirt off. He has nothing on and he kneels with his knees on either side of Danny's face and drapes himself over Danny's torso so they are like Yin and Yang. He takes the head of Danny's cock into his mouth and this is a language in which Steve is more than fluent, he's a goddamn laureate.

Danny finds the angle a little awkward, but manages to suck Steve's cock in return and they fall into a rhythm. Steve fucks Danny's mouth as he bobs his head up and down on Danny's engorged cock. It doesn't take long for either of them to come in the others mouth, Steve first and Danny a moment later. Danny spits on the ground, but Steve swallows. He always does.

Danny is profoundly relieved no one caught them at it and hurries inside. He can't stop thinking about eighth grade Steve, despite the crazy semi-public sexing he’s just endured and would repeat again in a heartbeat.

"Do you have a photo?" He asks Steve in his kitchen, where they are both naked and drinking water.

Steve groans, but gets out his eighth grade yearbook and shows Danny a black and white photo of Steve with shoulder length hair, and eyes and nose slightly too large for his face. He doesn't look the least bit confident, and he’s kind of all skinny neck, but that just makes Danny love him even more.


End file.
